Cents crawled over Baga
The fourteenth from right
First from me
White tarpaulin flew over
Dispair of the vend’s derm
Adorning the last few cookies
Wind chimes tickled an anvil
Bucks for the Fortune Cookie
Honey brown teint glued my glasses
Bare eyes longed to rest
Lips to feel the first kiss
The rough skin held my hands
Lips inches apart
Ouch! That hurts!

Tongue blood bathed
And me noticed its opening
Unchaste! Winking through the hoods!
Its demonic beam savouring it all
Akin the day sweet chirps tooled it
Tearing its hem with the peak
I stumbled, fings escaped
The cookie embraced the sea
Glasses reflected the dirty dance
Gusts sanding my tearfeds
Brought in a thump
Across the left blush

The silver foil read
NOT YOUR STORY.